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lick-me-lennon22 · 5 months ago

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Beatles X ADHD!Reader Headcanons

(Hello, everyone!! I apologize for the short hiatus, I've been going through a lot following my 21st birthday as well as some family/work troubles. I also want to give a happy, happy 84th birthday full of peace and love to the one and only Richard Starkey!!! ☮️💞☮️💞☮️💞 As always, please let me know if anything in this post comes across as offensive or insensitive, and take what resonates with you :) I'm glad to be back and hope you all enjoy this post!!)

John

John is intrigued by your unique perspective and view of the world

He admires your creativity and often finds inspiration in your spontaneous ideas

He encourages you to channel your energy into your passions - whether it's music, art, or any other creative pursuit

John understands that you may struggle with focus at times and offers gentle reminders or helps you create strategies to stay organized

He'll support you through restless nights by staying up and chatting with you, plagued by his own insomnia, and helps you get your energy out

He also understands that you may thrive in an environment that may seem chaotic to others, but embraces the unpredictability and encourages you to express yourself freely without fear of judgement

John greatly values your honesty and openness about your challenges

He shares his own vulnerabilities and struggles with you, creating a bond built on mutual understanding and support

He enjoys engaging in deep conversations with you, exploring different topics and learning from your point of view

You two often have late-night chats that range from philosophical discussions to whimsical flights of fancy

He appreciates your ability to jump from topic to topic, finding it refreshing and inspiring

John absolutely loves to collaborate with you on creative projects, whether it's writing songs together or brainstorming ideas for new ventures

Your spontaneous and unique ideas often lead to innovative and unexpected song lyrics or artistic projects

During times when you feel overwhelmed or distracted, John offers a supportive presence

Whether it's through gentle reminders, offering reassurance, or simply listening as you ramble about your latest hyperfixation, he provides unwavering comfort and understanding

Paul

Paul is naturally a very supportive and nurturing partner

He is exceptionally patient and understanding during times when you become distracted or overwhelmed

He also thrives on creating structure and routine, which helps you manage your symptoms effectively

He'll collaborate with you to create adaptive routines and to-do lists that accommodate you, designing schedules that provide flexibility while ensuring important tasks are completed without stress

Paul helps you channel your creative energy into organized projects

He enjoys planning songwriting sessions or artistic endeavors that allow you to streamline your enthusiasm and ideas

Paul listens attentively when you ramble and infodump about your hyperfixations

His optimism and positivity uplift you, helping you feel more confident and capable in managing your ADHD

He always makes it a point to celebrate your achievements, big and small, recognizing the effort and determination it takes to accomplish tasks despite your ADHD-related challenges

Paul is very attuned to your emotional needs, offering comfort and support during moments of frustration or overwhelm

During periods of self-doubt, Paul makes sure to emphasize his belief in your abilities and resilience

He will also take the liberty of decluttering your work and living spaces, as well as locating items you may have misplaced, wanting to keep you from experiencing additional stress

He will often pick up your medication for you (if applicable), and always reminds you to take your meds

Paul helps you set clear goals and prioritize your tasks

He suggests therapies and coping mechanisms, helping you to make informed decisions to improve your daily life

George

George appreciates your spontaneity and creativity, and feels it aligns well with his laid-back personality

He encourages you to explore different hobbies and interests, recognizing your potential to excel in various creative endeavors

He values your insight and often seeks your perspective on music, philosophy, and art

George appreciates your ability to share your experiences openly with him, even when your thoughts are racing or your emotions are intense

You bond over using music as a form of therapy, playing acoustic guitars together or listening to soothing melodies that help calm your mind and enhance your focus

George enjoys spending quiet moments with you - whether it's meditating, enjoying nature, or simply existing and decompressing together

He loves to escape with you to peaceful, natural settings where you can both unwind, connect with one another, and find inspiration in the beauty of your surroundings

He provides a calming presence for you, helping you feel grounded and supported in moments of overwhelm or distraction

George notices small details about your behavior and mood, which helps him recognize when you need gentle reminders or space to recharge

He always respects your need for personal space and quiet moments

George, of course, introduces you to and walks you through mindfulness practices and meditation techniques that help you center yourself and manage your ADHD symptoms more effectively

He supports you in setting boundaries and encourages you to prioritize self-care

George shares his passion for health and wellbeing with you, encouraging activities like yoga, journaling, and nutritious cooking, which promote physical and mental balance

Ringo

Ringo embraces your spontaneity, finding joy and solace in your playful and creative nature

He values your unique talents and perspectives, always taking genuine interest in your hyperfixations

Ringo encourages you to express yourself freely and to always embrace your quirks and unique strengths

His humor and warmth create a positive atmosphere where you feel accepted and cherished for who you are

His lighthearted approach helps alleviate day-to-day stress and pressure

Ringo finds great pleasure in making you laugh, and appreciates your own playful sense of humor and view of things

Ringo is naturally flexible and adaptable, which helps him to navigate your changing moods and interests with ease

He recognizes that your ADHD may lead to shifts in your interests or priorities and remains supportive and understanding in these moments

Ringo enjoys planning outings and activities that cater to your interests, making sure you're both engaged and having fun

He savors moments of comfortable silence and parallel play with you, where you can simply be together without constant need for stimulation or conversation

He deeply appreciates the peace and connection found in these quiet moments

Ringo creates a safe space for you to express yourself creatively however you see fit - whether it be through doodling, writing, or other forms of artistic expression

Empathy is a huge aspect of his support, as he also struggles with ADHD symptoms and navigates his challenges alongside yours

He provides a comforting and understanding presence during times where you feel frustrated or overstimulated

Ringo offers a calming and positive demeanor, as well as unconditional support, reassuring you that you are not alone in managing your ADHD

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denimshortsdean · 9 months ago

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TAG GAME!!:

Shuffle your favorite playlist and post the first five songs that come up.

I was tagged by the darling @e-mio ! Decided to shuffle my Daylist (classic anthem late friday night in case you were wondering)

Changes - David Bowie

Day Tripper - The Beatles

Keep Yourself Alive - Queen

Brown Sugar - The Rolling Stones

Bad Medicine - Bon Jovi

absolutely no pressure to do this but I'm tagging @nostalgicbones @forkinthegarbagedisposal @letterlimerence @electric-loser @deansotherotherphone @passiveagressivepoet and @thesurprisinglyqueertoast!

#it's ya boi rach #tag games #rb games #music #gpoy #sam im sorry this is so late!

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copperboom82 · 12 days ago

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Something

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC (female)

Word Count: 3.9k

Prompt: "Just please don't say you love me." - Gabrielle Alpin

Title credit: Something by The Beatles

Summary: A late-night conversation forces Katrina and Dean to deal with the things they've left unspoken for years.

AN: Hello! This is my first submission for @jacklesversebingo and my first story for this OC. It's just a one-shot for now, but I have some other ideas for this pairing, so we'll see. I think this falls into angst/fluff territory

Warnings: Mild cursing, mentions of alcohol. Please let me know if I missed something - I don't think I did, but I'm also very new to posting my writing.

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Katrina Black had never been a good sleeper.

She’d never considered herself to be a true insomniac… but it was close. Falling asleep, regardless of how tired she may or may not be, was always an ordeal. Whether it was normal life stress, adrenaline from a hunt, a combination of the two, it didn’t matter: turning her brain off was, without fail, a herculean task. Then staying asleep? Forget it. Growing up the way she had, the instinct to keep one eye and ear open at all times was impossible to shut down. Every noise seemed to register and set her on edge, big and small, and God forbid there be any light. That was the fastest way to jolt her out of a dead sleep.

It had been that way as long as Katrina could remember, and by now, in her early thirties, she was quite used to it. Instead of dreading the nighttime, she’d even come to appreciate the solace of it. It was quiet when the rest of the world was sleeping, and peaceful in a way that was hard to recreate in other circumstances.

What she wasn’t used to was having company. But as of late, company was what she had.

“Can’t sleep again, huh,” she remarked quietly as she slipped out onto the back porch, two steaming mugs carefully cradled in her hands as she gently shut the door with her foot. Dean’s head swiveled in her direction, his green eyes finding her in the low lighting, a tired smile making its way onto his face… a humorless chuckle slipping past his lips.

“Not so much.”

In the weeks since Dean had gotten back from Purgatory, there’d hardly been a night that Katrina hadn’t run into the elder Winchester brother in the hours she’d gotten so used to spending on her own. He’d even gone so far as to co-opt her spot – not that she suspected he realized that when he’d started coming out here.

Katrina wordlessly settled into the porch swing next to him, shivering against the chilling air and passing one of the mugs to Dean. He accepted it, but looked between her and the mug, his expression growing skeptical when he realized what it was.

“Hot chocolate, Kat? Really? I’m not five.”

Kat.

That stupid nickname made butterflies swarm her stomach like she was a damn teenager again. No one else called her Kat, only Dean. To everyone else she was Trina, or Katrina. It had started as his way to annoy her, in those early days when Bobby had introduced them, and they hadn’t been able to go ten minutes without bickering about something. Then somewhere along the lines when neither of them had been paying attention they’d become friends, and he didn’t try to annoy her anymore, but the nickname had stuck.

And her fondness for the moniker had grown with the idiot hunter that used it.

“I know,” she scoffed, a wry smile forming on her own face as she went to take a sip from the mug still in her hands. “That’s why I put vodka in it. And maybe some Bailey’s.”

His skepticism turned to amusement, and Katrina watched from the corner of her eye as he made a face that said what the hell before following her example and drinking.

“Not bad,” he admitted as he lowered the mug.

“You should know better than to doubt me by now, Winchester,” she quipped, and Dean rolled his eyes, though they both knew he was only being dramatic.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Black,” he griped back, though the fondness in his voice was unmistakable. Silence fell over them as they both settled further into the swing, and Katrina took another sip of the hot chocolate, savoring the warmth that spread through her body as she swallowed it down.

It should have been comfortable, and in many ways it was. She’d known the Winchesters for years now – hunting with them often, researching for them when she couldn’t, housing them when they weren’t off doing their own thing… the three of them, barring Dean’s year in Purgatory, had been practically inseparable since the Leviathans had burned Bobby’s house down. Sam and Dean were her closest friends. Her family.

But with Dean, it was never comfortable. She was too stupidly hyperaware of his presence for anything involving being around that man to be comfortable. The heat of his body, the way the smell of gunpowder and leather always seemed to cling to him, the aggravating truth in that his solid presence made her feel safe in a way nothing else did.

No, being around Dean never failed to put her on high alert. And he was a goddamn distraction to boot. No matter how much Katrina tried to keep her mind on the night sky and quiet her thoughts so she could make another attempt at sleep, her eyes kept darting to her left. She didn’t often see Dean out of his normal jeans and flannel combo, except for these late-night stargazing sessions. Tonight he was clad in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that should have been illegal for the way it showed off his arms and the broad lines of his shoulders. His green eyes gleamed in the moonlight, hair adorably mused from whatever futile attempt he had made at sleep, and the stubble littering his face made her mouth water in a completely inappropriate way.

Inappropriate because Dean was her best friend, and best friends didn’t have the kind of thoughts about each other that she was having right now. Thoughts that the year apart had apparently done nothing to quell. Which shouldn’t have been surprising. It had done nothing to dampen her not-so-friend-like feelings for him either.

To say nothing of the fact that with the kind of lives they led, there was no room for that sort of thing. She didn’t believe that loving a Winchester was the death sentence that Sam and Dean had both, at times, claimed it to be. But she knew enough to know that loving a hunter was always a risk, always invited complication… and all of their lives were complicated enough.

“How’s that shoulder doin’?” he asked after a few minutes, breaking the silence and completely oblivious to the turmoil in Katrina’s head or the fire his gravelly voice, rough from lack of sleep, lit inside her.

“It’s fine,” she dismissed, unconsciously rolling the shoulder in question. Earlier in the day, the two of them and Sam had taken care of a vengeful spirit an hour or two south of her house. It had been a simple enough salt-and-burn, but the thing had lashed out like a cornered animal in the last few minutes they were digging, doing what it could to stop them from reaching their goal. In the mele, Katrina had gotten flung at one point and crashed into a nearby headstone hard. She’d been mostly fine, but of course, Dean had immediately clocked the way she was suddenly favoring her left side.

And now, hours later, he seemed as equally unconvinced of her dismissal as he’d been then if the way he was studying her was anything to go off of. His brow furrowed in concentration, and the intensity in his gaze left Katrina trying not to squirm.

“Really, Dean, it was –“

But for all the good her words did her she may as well have saved her breath. Dean, it seemed, wasn’t even listening. He was too busy setting his half-drunk mug of hot chocolate on the little table next to him and then reaching out for her. His touch was gentle but firm as he maneuvered her to lean forward so he could run his hand over the tender area. Katrina willed her breathing to stay steady, even as her heart felt like it was beating a mile a minute.

“Well nothing’s swollen,” he murmured, the concern still evident in his voice. Katrina rolled her eyes and arched an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, because I’m fine.”

Dean paused in his movements and caught her eye, sending her a look that was both exasperated and affectionate.

“And stubborn,” he pointed out. Katrina snorted.

“Pot, meet kettle.”

Dean sighed but let her go.

“Yeah, yeah,” he dismissed, eyes still glued to her form. They both stayed there, frozen in place for a moment, until he frowned. “You look cold.”

She was perhaps a little cold, but Katrina suspected what Dean was actually noticing was the tension that came from the nerves being in such close proximity to him created. She shook her head.

“I’m fine.”

This time Dean rolled his eyes, and before she could do anything, he was wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her against him, enveloping her in his warmth.

“Yeah, yeah,” he repeated, “I know. You’re always fine. C’mon, Kat. It’s not a big deal.”

It was a big deal, if the heat rising in her cheeks was any indicator. But Dean couldn’t know that.

“My hero,” she muttered, injecting as much sarcasm into her voice as she could manage, and Dean chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest.

“At least I’m someone’s,” he scoffed, that self-deprecating tone of his bringing a frown to Katrina’s face.

“Don’t do that,” she chastised, and Dean snorted.

“Do what? Be honest?”

“Put yourself down like that,” she corrected firmly and Dean sighed. Despite herself, she found her body relaxing into his more fully.

“You weren’t there, Kat. I’m no hero.”

She didn’t need to ask to know he was thinking of Purgatory. He’d been tight-lipped about the details, but whatever happened had left him rattled.

“You wanna talk about it?” she ventured softly. Dean stiffened for a moment, but then relaxed back into her as he exhaled, shaking his head as he did.

“No.”

It was the answer she expected, and Katrina nodded against his chest.

“You know I’m here though? If you do?”

There was no pause that time. Dean nodded.

“I know.”

And then he dropped a kiss to the top of her head that had her stomach doing somersaults as if it were the most natural in the world for him to do.

The silence settled over them again, and Katrina tried not to hyper fixate. Dean’s fingers started tracing circles on her arm, sending pleasant shivers down her spine, and the sounds of the night washed over them – crickets, she thought, somewhere in the distance, and the occasional howl of an animal.

Eventually, against all odds, it was the steady thrum of Dean’s heartbeat that started to lull Katrina back into a state of… not sleep, but rest, she supposed. Her senses dulling and her consciousness allowing her to enjoy the peace of the moment. But it was just that – a moment – and before long Dean was speaking again, his words breaking it apart and filling her chest with a strange mix of hope and fear.

“I missed you, you know. While I was… gone. I, uh… it’s nice. Having you around again.”

He doesn’t mean what you want him to mean, the voice in her head hissed at her. Friends miss each other. Don’t make more out of it than what it is.

But somewhere, Katrina knew it was more than that. Dean didn’t just say shit like that. Still, letting herself ruminate on it too much was risky.

“I missed you too,” she admitted. There was a beat of silence, and then the words were slipping out before she could stop them – quiet, but impossible to miss in the stillness of their surroundings. “I was afraid I’d never see you again.”

She caught herself as much as Dean by surprise, so much so that she hardly noticed when he moved, shifting them so that, while his arm was still around her, she was no longer leaning into him, and they were instead facing each other. His eyes were wide, betraying how much she’d caught him off guard with the admission, and Katrina felt as though she were being x-rayed the way he was searching her face. She found herself unwittingly holding her breath, waiting for the inevitable fallout, or worse, the teasing.

But instead, his features softened, and a small smile formed on his face. The kind he seemed to reserve only for her.

“C’mon, Kat,” he murmured, his free hand coming up to brush some stray hair out of her face. But instead of dropping back to his own lap, it stayed, cradling her face. “I always find my way back to you, don’t I?”

In what seemed to be a single breath, the air between them turned charged. On their face, the words themselves were innocent. The way he was looking at her, however, was anything but, and his tone carried a weight with it that the words alone didn’t.

They’d been here before. In this space of almost and on the verge… but one of them always pulled back. Katrina wasn’t totally sure of Dean’s reasons, though she had a list she could guess at. Her own were complicated and multi-faceted. Chief among them was a strong disbelief that whatever Dean did feel for her couldn’t possibly mirror the feelings she’d been harboring for him. And if it were only her own heart she was risking? It might not have worried her so much – she could deal with pain. But the idea of opening herself up, giving things a shot and having them crash and burn… she knew what would come next, and the idea of having to cut ties with him and Sam was unfathomable. Aside from her younger sister, they were the only real family she had left. And Jenna, as wonderful as she was, didn’t understand the life Katrina led. It had been one of the many things Katrina had worked so hard to shield her from.

This time, however, neither of them seemed ready to heed that invisible line. Katrina noticed the way Dean’s eyes flickered down to her lips, and she unconsciously wet them while her own heart beat impossibly faster. At first, neither of them moved. And then all at once Dean leaned down and captured her lips with his in a kiss that nearly made her heart stop.

Despite the fact that it was something she’d wanted for years, it took her brain a few seconds to catch up with the reality of what was happening, and Katrina found herself frozen. But then, just as Dean seemed to be thinking he’d made a mistake, beginning to pull back, she jolted back to life. All of her normal reservations about why this was such a bad idea flew out the window, forgotten in the heat of the moment, and she kissed him back with fervor.

Her own mug of hot chocolate was quickly deposited next to her on the bench, her hands eagerly seeking out Dean instead. The arm he’d had around her shoulders dropped lower, securing itself around her waist and pulling her closer. Hi tongue dipped past the seam of her lips, tasting and learning her all at once and letting her do the same, while her fingers found purchase on the short hairs at the nape of his neck.

Katrina wasn’t sure how long they kissed – it could have been seconds or it could have been minutes – but by the time they broke apart they were both slightly breathless. They stayed close, Dean pressing one last soft, chaste kiss to her lips before resting his forehead against hers, while Katrina sat there, her head spinning. For awhile it was still just the two of them that she was aware of – Dean’s warm breath against her skin, every point of contact, her own heartbeat so loud she could feel it in her ears, the taste of him still lingering… the spiked drink she’d made them mixed with something uniquely Dean she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

But then reality slowly began to intrude as the rest of her senses returned to her. All the reasons she normally held herself back started screaming at her, and the panic began to set in.

“What was that?” she asked carefully, taking care to keep her voice steady. Dean, still cradling her face in his hand, smirked slightly.

“A kiss, Kat. I believe you’re familiar with the concept based on what I’ve seen from you before.”

It was such a Dean thing to say. And under other circumstances she might have laughed, or come up with her own quip back, but she was still having trouble with rational thought.

“We don’t kiss,” she pointed out. Dean shrugged, his thumb swiping over her cheek.

“Yeah, well maybe we should change that.”

Before she could think of anything remotely reasonable to say, he was kissing her again. And for just a moment, Katrina let herself get swept up in him once more. But this time when he went to deepen it, Katrina pulled back, the panic overwhelming the more pleasant sensations Dean had sparked.

“Dean, I –“ she started, her voice catching in her throat, embarrassingly choked by emotion.

“What? What’s wrong?” he asked, the teasing tone from before switching to one of genuine concern, and Katrina swallowed hard, willing herself to get her shit under control. This wasn’t her, she didn’t get emotional over guys, or anything, really… but then, Dean had always had a way of making her break even her own rules.

“I can’t do this,” she managed to get out, ignoring the confusion mixing with the concern in his expression. “It’s a bad idea. I can’t… I can’t just be a way for you to blow off steam. That’s not gonna work for me, and…” she trailed off, only dimly registering the look of abject horror on Dean’s face.

“Kat,” he said slowly, his voice gentle but tinged clearly with pain. “Is that really what you think is goin’ on here? That I’m just trying to blow off steam?”

Katrina closed her eyes, focusing on taking a breath. Somewhere in the back of her mind she half wished that when she opened them again it all would have been some sort of fever dream. But, of course, it wasn’t, and when she opened them again Dean was there waiting.

“Isn’t it?”

His face fell and he pulled back, his frown deepening while Katrina found herself already missing the proximity.

“Hell no. Look, I know I’m not Mr. Touchy Feely here, but I really thought we were on the same page about this.”

This was dangerous territory. Territory that Katrina both wanted to and dreaded entering.

Because Dean was… not right, but not wrong either. There was something between them, something more than friendship, evident alone from how different their relationship was from the one she had with Sam if nothing else. But whatever that something more was, Katrina couldn’t be foolish enough to let herself believe that Dean felt the same way about her. She loved him, she knew that. And sure maybe his feelings weren’t strictly platonic… but he didn’t love her. Not like that.

And if even if he did? Dean Winchester didn’t do relationships. She’d been there for the aftermath of Lisa and Ben… watched him struggle through the wreckage… and she knew better than anyone that he’d sworn off the idea of ever letting himself get involved like that again.

“I don’t know what to say,” she mumbled, and Dean looked at her in slight disbelief.

“You can say whether I’m wrong or not.”

Katrina opened her mouth to do just that, but the words wouldn’t come. She tried a second and a third time too, and after that last attempt a smug expression worked its way onto Dean’s face, some of the tension easing from his body.

“So I’m not wrong,” he theorized. “You want to be with me too.”

“Except you don’t do relationships,” Katrina pointed out quickly, “and I’m not looking to get my heart broken.”

Dean softened, the corners of his lips tugging down again, and Katrina could practically see the gears turning in his head.

“Why don’t you let me worry about what I do and do not do?”

“Are you actually suggesting what I think you are right now?”

“Depends,” Dean asked, some of that devil-may-care attitude of his making an appearance again. “What do you think I’m suggesting?”

Katrina wasn’t having any of it, though. Mind still reeling, she huffed and moved further back from him, turning to grab for her mug.

“I swear,” she started to complain without really knowing where she was going with it. “God forbid you be serious for just one –“

Dean’s hand shot out almost immediately, cutting her off mid-sentence as he pulled her right back where she’d been, his arm coming around her even more securely than before. He kissed her again, this time slow and purposefully, breaking away while her brain was still going fuzzy.

“I am being serious, Kat,” he said. “Look, I get it, you’re scared, and people in our line of work don’t get happy endings. But c’mon. It’s been here, whatever this thing is between us, for too long, and I’m tired of pretending it isn’t. You said you were afraid you weren’t gonna see me again? Hell, I was too. And I was more afraid that I’d never get a chance to figure this out. I want to be with you, and not just for a night or for while it feels good. This is what I want… I’m ready to fight for it.”

“Dean –“ she began, but he cut her off, shaking his head.

“And, say what you want, but as long as you’ve known me, I’ve never given you a reason not to trust me. So if I’m telling you how I feel, you should know I mean it.”

By the time he was done speaking, Katrina’s eyes were uncharacteristically watery, and she quickly blinked back the tears, refusing to let them spill over. Dean noticed anyway, and frowned, cradling her face once more and smoothing his thumb over her cheek.

“What are you thinking, Kat?” he prompted gently, and she let out something that was somewhere between a cry and a laugh.

“I’m thinking this is insane,” she admitted, which pulled a crooked smile from Dean and her own watery chuckle.

“Yeah, maybe a little,” he allowed. “But that doesn’t make it any less real.” She let out a puff of air, and he sighed. “C’mon, Kat. I lo –“

“No,” she cut across him firmly, and Dean blinked back in surprise.

“No? No what?”

Katrina bit her lip, her emotions threatening to overwhelm her again, and she looked down at her lap, unable to meet his eye.

“Just please don’t say you love me.”

Her words hung there between them, until Dean tilted her chin up, forcing her to look back at him. It was impossible to miss the earnest expression on his face.

“But what if I do?” he asked. Brain short circuiting, Kat blinked back stupidly.

“Then you’re crazier than I am,” she finally said, and at her words a genuine smile cracked Dean’s face, his laughter sounding almost inappropriately loud after their conversation colored by whispers and murmurs. It didn’t last long though, and before Katrina could make sense of any of it, Dean was dipping his head again, pressing a short, sweet kiss to her lips and returning his forehead to its previous resting place against hers.

“Sweetheart,” he began, managing to maintain his sincerity despite the laughter still underlying his voice, “I’ve always been crazier than you.”

#jacklesversebingo24 #supernatural #spn fanfic #dean winchester #dean winchester x ofc #spn #supernatural fanfiction #annie writes

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rexkoolaid · 3 months ago

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Things I saw on the A Hard Days Night website archive (on interactual) PART 1

Long post. No IDs because Im doing this for fun and I have to return the DVD to my college library. Feel free to add ID if you'd like.

PART 2!

1: this is the first page from it. Clicking the enter button and the boxes all lead you to the next page but with a different bugs face on it.

2: The text is the same each time so here's all their photos

and the text

3a: the "Yesterday" button still has the photos of the bugs on the left side but it also has a letter!

3b: The "Here Today" button leads to these buttons. I'll get back to them later

4: After hitting the Launch this cute little screen appears (not john the other thing)

Each page will be on a different post because I recorded video of them

"Talk About Boys" page "Act Naturally" Page

5: The Script Button (from 3b)

its exactly what one would expect.

I'm not going to post the whole 115 pages or the deleted/additional scenes in this post because I don't have the time for that right now. Maybe soon.

6. Silver Screen Legends:

its a page with some fun facts about filming!

in the image when you hover over it with a mouse it reads "In their very early days the Beatles really DID share hotel rooms - and so much more! Here's their hotel room from the film."

this one says "On the first day of shooting - director Richard Lester (centre) gives the Beatles some guidance just before shooting one of the sequences on the train" when you hover over it

this is the Method Acting photo. It says "On Thursday 9th April 1964 - Ringo filmed his solo scene on the towpath of the River Thames. 30 years later he revealed that the reason for his impressive acting that day was he had a rough 'night before' !"

This one talks about how March and April of 1964 were pretty cold months.

Photo from a cut scene in the film with Paul (left), Walter Shenson (centre), and Richard Lester (right).

Ringo and Wilfred Brambell (as Pauls Grandfather) being "absolute magnet[s] for the birds"

March 31st and April 1st the Beatles were filmed in front of an audience of screaming fans. Photo from before the fans arrived!

Richard Lester!

The Beatles "waiting for the sun" in between outdoor scenes

Its pretty late so Im ending it for now. I will post the rest another time! Next will be Local Lads Make Good! (I'll hyperlink it here when done)

#rexaid #the beatles #paul mccartney #george harrison #john lennon #ringo starr #beatles archive #a hard days night

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aphrogeneias · 1 year ago

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𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 — 𝐩𝐥𝐮𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞

summary: it's time to face the music.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings: angst with a happy ending.

author's note: this was posted originally only a few hours before season four, volume two came out, and we had no clue what eddie's fate would be. nonetheless, here he survives. he saves and is saved, and that's all that matters <3. thank you for reading!

series masterlist

The door was already opened when Steve pulled into your driveway.

If he was honest to himself, Eddie wanted to run away. He was tripping on himself from the moment he stepped out of the car, unsteady legs leading him to the porch, where Max Mayfield sat alone, with her own headphones around her head.

She stood up as she saw them run into the house, and held Eddie's arm as he passed her. He stared at the redhead girl, wide-eyed, as she started talking quietly. "Her tapes are upstairs in her room, we didn't know what to pick so we waited for you. She's, um… Just hurry, okay? There's still time."

Frightened by the hesitation in her voice, all he could do was nod, frantically, as he made his way into the house. Running into the living room, what he saw almost made him break down, knocking the breath out of his chest.

Everyone else was already there, standing around you and Nancy, who were sitting on the floor, your back resting on the couch behind you, while the oldest Wheeler held onto your hand. Your eyes were taken by a pale, milky white color, blinking rapidly, as you stared ahead, vacantly.

Even if he tried, Eddie couldn't put it in words how much it hurt him to see you this way. Broken, spellbound, vulnerable — nothing like the girl he used to know. Without thinking, he surged forward, aching to comfort you, but he was abruptly stopped by Steve, who put himself in front of him, holding him still by the shoulders.

"What are you doing, man?"

"Didn't you hear what Mayfield said? Go get the tape with her favorite song in it. Now!" Steve pushed him back, determination set heavily in his brow.

Stumbling, he walked backwards, still dizzy from shock, struggling between doing what he must and staying by your side, but he knew he was the only one who could help you now, and he would be damned if he failed you now.

His legs carried him up the stairs and into the hallway as if they had a life of their own, running on autopilot. He'd never been to your house, and it felt deeply wrong that these were the circumstances that had him visiting you for the first time. Foolishly, he had imagined coming here in much different situations — late at night, perhaps after a much belated date, holding your body close as you guided him to your room, expectation heavy in the air.

None of that mattered now.

Your bedroom was just like he expected it would be. A large bookshelf covered almost all of the wall opposite to your bed, which was unmade, an old teddy bear forgotten on the floor. He didn't have the time to look carefully at all the art taped to the walls, the pattern of your wallpaper, or the clothes that you'd left on your chair before was kneeling after the bottom shelves, where you kept your tapes, neatly organized.

"Where's the goddamn…", trembling hands checked one by one, throwing them haphazardly on your carpeted floor, "fucking…", until he found it, a white and yellow tape, with the words Please, Please Me written in bold red letters. "Beatles!"

Falling back, he pushed himself up, running back downstairs. Nancy was already holding your walkman when he came in, an eery silence taking over the whole house. Delicately, he took it from her hands, placing in the tape himself, and selecting the thirteenth track, your favorite, "There's a Place".

Sitting in front of you, he placed the headphones on your ears, making sure they were secure and in place. Eddie cradled your face in his hands, leaning it to speak to you, as if you could hear him, as if you were the only two people in the room. "C'mon, baby. I'm here, I'm right here for you, you can do this."

Only a moment after, your body shot up into the air, making him gasp. It was like a sinister deja vu, something he'd seen before and never wished to see again, images of Chrissy now running through his mind like a old movie. He wanted to scream, but he didn't have the strenght to make a sound, eyes glued to your floating body, almost touching the ceiling.

He could hear the others talking around him, but he couldn't make sense of what they were saying. He could feel them pacing, throwing words of encouragement at you, jittery with worry. But Eddie couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't see a thing other than you.

"C'mon, please, I know you can do this."

When a gasp came out of your mouth, body trashing still in the air, time stopped around him.

He watched as you came down, falling on the floor, curling up on yourself. Eddie crawled his way to you, throwing his arms around you as soon as he was close enough to do it, bringing you near. Your breathing was heavy as you clutched to him, "What was that?"

"Long story, sweetheart. How are you feeling?"

"I thought he was going to… I though I was… dead. He was going to win."

Shaking his head, he brought his hands to sides of your face again, resting his forehead on yours. He could see your eyes from up close, the beautiful color of your irises shining again, your breath minglinf with his. "No, we weren't going to let him. He's not gonna win, he's not gonna take you from me."

You closed your eyes, brushing your nose with his, and whispering, "I was so scared. At first I saw…", swallowing hard, your hand squeezed his wrist, but he still held you close, "my father. I didn't understand what he was doing here, but then… it was him. That thing."

Eddie knew there was something you weren't telling him, something more to your vision that you were willing to share, but he didn't care. You were safe, he was able to save you, even though none of that felt real.

"That thing isn't going to get to you anymore. I promise, okay?"

Drawing away to look at him in the eye, and reaching one of your hands to touch his cheek, you gave him a sad smile, "Don't make any promises you can't keep."

"I'm keeping this one, I told you I'd stay, didn't I?"

"For as long as I wanted." You repeated his words. "What if I want to you to stay forever?"

"That's fine by me."

At the end of the day, perhaps, you were the one who saved him.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic

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muzaktomyears · 4 months ago

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John Lennon by his friends and son: ‘He got eight years more than Jesus’

The former Beatle would have been turning 84 this autumn. Now his son Sean and those who knew him best are keeping his spirit alive with the rerelease of his classic solo album Mind Games

Everyone wonders what John Lennon could have become. When he was murdered in New York on December 8, 1980, the 40-year-old was in his post-Beatles prime. The superb album Double Fantasy had just come out and he was plotting a world tour. His second son, Sean, whom he took time off to bring up with his wife, Yoko Ono, was five, and Lennon was feeling inspired. Seven solo records since the Beatles had split ten years earlier; a reconciliation with Paul McCartney.

“Everyone gets the time they get, and he got eight years longer than Jesus,” says Bob Gruen, the rock’n’roll legend who took photographs of everyone who mattered in the 1970s. He captured Lennon and Ono’s time in New York and is confident and chatty — until conversation turns to what Mark Chapman took outside the Dakota that day.

“John should be alive now,” Gruen says, clearly still affected 44 years on. Gruen had spent the weekend with Lennon before he died and was developing his photos when he got the call. “He didn’t die in an accident or of a disease. His death broke my trust in everything. He was grounded at the time. He learnt a lot from raising his son, about enjoying his life and being sober. Then I heard he was dead.”

Lennon would have been 84 in October — and at least we are left with his songs. But legacy is complicated. Over the years McCartney has stolen his crown as chief creative in the Beatles. Partly because Lennon is no longer here to speak. Also because, during Peter Jackson’s 2021 film, Get Back, Lennon was largely stoned, while the charismatic McCartney conjured up magic. So to redress the balance, this month’s innovative rerelease of Lennon’s Mind Games (1973) pushes design and immersion in ways few box sets have before. It features new mixes — some that amplify Lennon’s voice, others that emphasise the instruments.

It is the work of Sean, 48, who has been at the forefront of the Mind Games rerelease. Lennon’s younger son is a musician and artist based in New York near his mother, 91. “The title track is one of the most beautiful songs ever written,” he says.

The songs answer questions Sean never got to ask his father. Despite being very young when his father was around, Sean does have memories of him — talking, watching TV, playing guitar and saying, “Good night, Sean.” The song Aisumasen (I’m Sorry) on the record is an apology from Lennon to Ono.

“One thing that distinguishes my dad’s solo career,” Sean says, “is how personal his lyrics became. It is like a diary, and it is my duty to bring attention to my father’s music. Not just my duty to him, but a duty to the world. With the world as it is now, people have forgotten so many things that I never imagined could be forgotten. I refuse to let that happen to this music — it means too much to me.”

Two years before Mind Games came out, Lennon moved to New York and met Gruen. Living in New York was simpler for him and Ono. They were hounded in Britain. “One paper called Yoko ugly,” Gruen recalls. “But in New York they were just treated as the quirky artists who came to town.”

Gruen’s eyes light up. “He was just funnier than everyone else,” he says. “I’d have loved him on Twitter, he was so cool with one-liners.” He smiles. “And, also, he learnt to cook. I’d always try to go to the Dakota for mealtimes.” What sort of food? “John used to be a meat and potatoes guy, but he met [the actress] Gloria Swanson in the vegetable store and she gave him a book that acted as a way into a macrobiotic diet from a western one. He got really into healthy food, baking vegetables and steaming fish.”

And this is the frustration. In the late 1970s Lennon was cleaning up his act. For himself, for Sean — a son he was involved with, as opposed to his first child, Julian. He had changed, from the man who went on his fabled “Lost Weekend” in Los Angeles in 1973. The weekend actually ran for months, during which Lennon left Ono, on Ono’s suggestion, for their assistant, May Pang, then 23. After Lennon went back to Ono, Pang carried on in the music business and married the producer Tony Visconti, but the Lost Weekend era remains her headline. During that time Lennon enjoyed chaotic recording sessions with Phil Spector. “I wondered if he’d ever make it back to New York,” Gruen says. “I thought he might get a place in Hawaii, or just die.” But Lennon returned in 1974, for his final six years.

What does Gruen think about how Lennon is remembered? Especially in Get Back? “Well, who’s the last one standing?” Gruen scoffs. “Who gets to write the history? The survivors get to write the history. That’s the way it goes.”

Tony King was the vice-president of Apple Records at the time of Lennon’s Lost Weekend. “We’re here to talk about my friend,” he tells me sweetly. King was out in Los Angeles working on a Ringo album when Pang phoned to say that Lennon needed help with his Mind Games record.

“I wasn’t looking forward to it,” King admits. “John could be sharp-tongued. But, in LA, he was super-friendly. I was straightforward. I told him he had to repair his reputation. After Imagine [1971] he’d gone in a different direction, making songs with a political edge. It was quite easy for John to get caught up in things. He had this tendency to see someone, decide he loved them and then go in their direction. I was lucky he went in my direction for a while. He realised he had lost some fans. Mind Games was more what people wanted.” Its songs were simpler and less political.

Personally, however, Lennon was in turmoil. “May on one arm, Yoko on the other!” King says. “He was juggling a lot.” Did Lennon talk about McCartney? “They were not getting along, but he was still fond of him,” King recalls. And what about that Lost Weekend era? “He was off the walls, to be honest.

“We went to Las Vegas and John interrupted Frankie Valli during a show, saying, ‘Get your cock out!’ We got thrown out and on the way back to the hotel he was pissing up against trees and then throwing his chips around the lobby. I put him to bed. It was difficult when he drank. John had taken way too much acid and so when he drank it flipped him into another style of person. One day it was great, the next it was very hard.”

King remembers the night his friend died clearly. “I was out at dinner in LA and the waiter said, ‘He’s dead.’ I returned to a very lonely, sad hotel room.” Does he ever think about what Lennon might have achieved later in his life? “Elton and I talk about John,” King says. He means Elton John. “We say, ‘I wonder what he’d be up to?’ Well, he’d have pounced on the internet and got into AI. And he’d still campaign. I could see him hopping on a plane to see Zelensky. He was a busy person, with an arresting personality. You’re never going to forget him.”

The Mind Games reissue is a beast, a lavish celebration of a fine, melodic rush of songs. Bonuses include the Ultimate Mixes, which bring Lennon’s voice to the fore; Raw Studio Mixes; there is a Super Deluxe Edition “presented in a 13in cube”; puzzles; and even an experience on the free Lumenate app that is described as a “consciousness-expanding psychedelic meditation” and uses the phone’s torch and Lennon’s tunes to guide users into “a state of consciousness between deep meditation and psychedelics”.

We are a long way from 1973 — when the session musicians David Spinozza, on guitar, and Ken Ascher, on keyboards, were asked to play on Mind Games. They recall the recording as efficient — Lennon left his partying for later. He was in a creative peak, with Mind Games his fourth album in three years since the Beatles.

“He was a Beatle!” Ascher says. “I was thrilled to get the call. Yoko told me, around 10pm, that John would like to meet. I called my wife and said, ‘I’m not coming home — I’m meeting John.’ He played me music he liked, and we talked for hours. His humour helped me relax.”

Spinozza worked with Lennon and McCartney in the 1970s. How did the men compare? “Paul would do one song for six hours, even for a day,” he says. “With John we never worked on one song for six hours. He worked quick — he was all business. I’m not saying one was better than the other, but Paul could work on a drum sound for hours. John just wanted to get it done.”

How does Sean feel about his parents, looking back? “Their story is a love story,” he says. “They found each other across a great divide and certainly struggled through ups and downs, but never doubted their love. It is important we remember them as an example. Even through rough patches you can see my father thought about my mother. They were simply, irrevocably intertwined.”

Lovely words — and as for John Lennon himself? “Generally it’s whatever comes out, like diarrhoea,” he once said of his recordings. “A bit personal, a bit political — someone told me Mind Games was Imagine with balls, which I liked. It was like an interim record between being a manic political lunatic back to a musician again.”

Speaking in the early 1970s, after a decade of super-fame, he said he did not feel different to how he had before. “I’m still a bit adolescent,” he said in one of his final interviews. “My old friends from Liverpool got jobs after school. I’d see them six months later and their hair would be thin and they’d be getting fat. They were becoming old men — while I just keep going.”

(source)

#god save me from mainstream beatles articles #still some interesting snippets #john lennon #sean lennon #paul mccartney

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sequinsmile-x · 4 months ago

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Echo

noun /ˈɛkəʊ/

a sound or sounds caused by the reflection of sound waves from a surface back to the listener.

a close parallel to an idea, feeling, or event.

Emily misses her boyfriend, so when an opportunity arises to visit him for the weekend she takes it with both hands, but an unexpected visitor from Aaron's past threatens to derail everything.

A Young Hotchniss oneshot.

-x-

Hi friends,

I posted about this as a vague idea and everyone seemed to love it...so here we are! And as always I got carried away...is anyone surprised at this point?

Special shout out to @eyesontheskyline who helped inspire some of the angstier bits in this haha

As always, please let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 5k

Warnings: None

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

It was never meant to last longer than the summer.

It was an agreement they’d made that first night, his lips hovering over hers as they hid in a side room in her mother’s house during an event he was supposed to be working. His answer to her breathless statement, her quiet whisper that this couldn’t mean anything long-term, was to kiss her. His hands on her cheeks as his tongue swiped through her mouth, his body firm against hers as she was trapped between him and the wall.

She wanted to do something a little reckless, which sleeping with her mother’s security detail certainly was, and he was relatively fresh out of a long-term relationship, his heart still broken after his high-school sweetheart had ended things with him.

Emily had meant for it to just be sex. She’d had every intention of leaving her mother’s house after summer was over as free and single as she had been when she arrived, but there was something about him that she couldn’t quit. A pull that she didn’t entirely understand that had her hesitating when it was time to leave, her master’s degree at Yale calling her just like his fancy new job for the FBI was calling him. It shouldn’t have surprised her that he was the one to broach the subject, his smile crooked as he told her he’d looked up the drive between New Haven and DC, his eyes shining with something she refused to name as he said he’d drive it every weekend if it meant he got to see her.

Being in a long distance relationship was hard, but he made it easy. Aaron was just as kind and sweet as he always was with her. He sent cards and flowers on the weekends he couldn’t visit, making her friends at Yale vibrate with jealousy over how amazing and thoughtful her boyfriend was. She often found herself missing him in a way that made her feel embarrassed, sure that the version of herself who she’d been just a year ago would roll her eyes at her for how she’d smile when he called her, how she’d sit on the couch wearing his sweater, the phone between her ear and shoulder as they both sat alone and watched a TV show together with hundreds of miles between them.

It felt like life had been kicking her ass lately, relentless classes and papers driving her to the edge, something she was tipped over after a particularly rough conversion with her mother. She was about to call Aaron, sure just talking to him would make him feel better, when she found out all of her Friday classes had been cancelled. She packed a bag and got in her car without thinking about it, the opportunity of a three-day weekend back in DC too good to pass up. It’s only when she’s pulling up outside his apartment building that she wonders if she should have called him first, worried she’d be intruding, the shine of surprising him disappearing in an instant as it’s replaced with a nervousness only he had ever been able to bring out of her.

Any concern she had disappears the second she sees him. Emily’s breath catches in her chest as he opens his apartment door, looking every bit as gorgeous in his sweats and a Beatles t-shirt as he always did in his clean-cut suits, his hair damp from the shower.

“Em?” He asks, his smile wide as he looks her up and down, dimples carved deep in his cheeks, “What are you doing here?”

“My classes tomorrow got cancelled,” she says, her grip on her duffle bag over her shoulder tightening, something she could hold onto until she could hold onto him, “And I missed you, so I thought I’d come to see you,” she explains, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as he continues to stare at her, the silence they fall into forcing the anxiety she’d felt earlier back into her chest, “Should I have called fir-”

He’s kissing her before she can finish the question, his lips fierce against hers and his embrace tight around her back as her bag slips to the floor. She groans into his mouth as she wraps her arms around his neck, smiling into the kiss as he holds her impossibly tighter, the toes of her sneakers skimming the worn hallway carpet. When he pulls back he rests his forehead against hers, his smile wide as he stamps another kiss against her lips.

“I missed you too,” he replies, turning with her still in his arms, only setting her back down on the ground when she’s over the threshold and in his apartment, “I lo…I’m so happy to see you.”

They hadn’t said it to each other yet, the three words she liked to think she knew they both felt always on the tip of their tongues. They were gun-shy, her because of the fact she knows she hadn’t loved someone like this before, a part of her worried it would give him some kind of power over her that she wasn’t willing to give him, and he because he’d had his heart broken by the person he thought he’d be with forever. It made them cautious, always skirting around the idea that what was supposed to have been just sex had turned into so much more. Sometimes, she wished he’d just say it so she could say it back, self-aware enough that she knew she’d never say it first.

She presses her lips together to try and contain her smile as she watches him grab her bag from the hallway, her stomach flipping as her gaze drifts to the muscles in his arms, how they shift under his skin as he hooks her bag over his shoulder. He clears his throat and raises his eyebrow at her, letting her know she was caught out, and she narrows her eyes, well aware he’d be a little less smug once he saw some of the underwear she’d had packed for the weekend.

“I’m happy to see you too,” she says, closing the gap and kissing him, smiling when he gasps as she scratches her nails across his head, “I brought some textbooks so I can study whilst you’re at work tomorrow.”

He scoffs, hauling her up into his arms, smiling at her squeal as she wraps her legs around his waist, “Oh sweetheart, I am calling in sick tomorrow.”

She wraps her arms around his neck and raises her eyebrows in disbelief, familiar joy that he had always been able to draw out of her sparking in her chest, “You’re going to call in sick? Mr perfect attendance record?”

No more than a month after he’d started his new job and she’d gone back to college, he’d come down with the flu - a fact he’d desperately tried to hide from her. When she found out he’d gone to work any way she’d been furious and overnighted him chicken soup, her skin itching at the thought that she couldn’t be there to look after him. It was one of the first moments she realised that she was in love with him, the desire to drop everything and make sure he stayed in bed until he was better so overwhelming it had knocked her off kilter for a few days.

“What can I say,” he says, his hands on her ass as he starts to walk them towards his bedroom, “You’re clearly a bad influence on me.”

She scoffs, but it’s swallowed down by him as he leans forward, his lips against hers shutting off her brain to anything except him and his wondering hands.

___

She chuckles as he kisses her neck, a shiver passing through her body as she turns her head, his lips catching the corner of hers.

“We need to eat,” she murmurs, smiling as he kisses her again, his hand grasping at her waist as he shifts closer, the span of his hand skimming both her ribs and her hip.

“I’m planning on it,” he replies, his words muttered against her neck as he moves downwards, his intentions clear as his hand slips down to her thigh, his warm palm drawing a shiver out of her. She laughs and pushes at his shoulder, her smile wide as their eyes meet.

“I’m serious,” she says, pushing her fingers through his hair, “I’m starving.”

He can’t help but smile at her, love he still struggled to say outloud caught in his chest, warm and cloying as it makes it hard to breathe.

When he met her he never could have known how important she’d end up being to him, he never could have guessed that her smile would help pave over the cracks in his heart. Looking back on it, he thinks he should have known better. He’d never been someone to have casual sex, before Emily he’d only ever slept with Haley, but there was something about Emily that had drawn him in from the start. Poorly hidden mischief in her smile and a spark in her eyes that made her stand out in a house full of sharp suits and sensible conversation that he couldn’t resist, his final piece of self-restraint snapping when she’d pulled him into a side room during a party, her smile irresistible as she told him it would just be for the summer.

It was reassuring that she hadn’t been able to stick to that obvious lie either. That she had missed him enough in the two weeks since they’d last seen each other to drive here on a whim, her smile as shy as he’d ever seen it when he opened his apartment door last night. They’d spent the day in bed together, only getting up for a late breakfast that he’d made for her in the early afternoon. She’d sat on the counter next to him as he cooked, wearing only his t-shirt with one of her legs around his waist, exchanging kisses in between bites of pancakes and bacon that he fed to her.

He kisses her cheek, his response murmured against her skin, “I ordered pizza when you were in the bathroom. It should be here soon.”

She beams at him, her hands on his cheeks as she drags him in for a kiss, “You might actually be the perfect man.” She climbs out of bed, stretching as she does so, her muscles aching deliciously before she reaches for his discarded t-shirt, scrunching her nose up as she looks at the Beatles album cover printed on the front of it, “Although, your taste in music leaves a lot to be desired.”

He shakes his head as he stands up, tugging his sweatpants up over his hips before he pulls her into his arms, his hands framing her waist, “You can make fun of the Beatles as much as you want, Em. I’ve seen the pictures from your punk phase.”

She groans, but her response is cut off by a knock at the door, “I’ll get the pizza.”

He grumbles as he walks over to the closet, pulling another t-shirt out of it before he follows her out into the living area, “If that pizza delivery guy tries to flirt with you again I’m having him fired.”

She laughs as she reaches into her purse, pulling out her wallet, purposely leaning over a little more than necessary before she looks over her shoulder at him and winks, “Oh yes, if there’s one thing I love more than hot FBI agents it’s college freshman who deliver pizza to make weed money.”

She smiles as she opens the apartment door, her hand already held out to take the pizza. Her face drops when she looks up and doesn’t see the pizza guy, her smile melting away when her eyes meet those of a blonde woman she’d only ever seen pictures of, the other woman’s eyes wide as she looks Emily up and down, who was suddenly incredibly aware of the fact she was only wearing a large t-shirt.

Emily couldn’t pretend that this wasn’t something she’d been worried about, that the reappearance of the woman standing in front of her wasn’t a fear she’d had since she’d fallen for Aaron. She tugs at the hem of the t-shirt she’s wearing, desperately trying to make it cover more of her thighs, and she clears her throat, her mouth opening but no words coming out, feeling oddly at an advantage because she knew who the other woman was, but at a disadvantaged because she was practically naked. Time slows down as Aaron appears behind her, his hand on her hip as he steps in front of her, providing her with some cover, his eyebrows furrowed as he finally breaks the silence and says something.

“Haley?”

Haley nods, her lips pressed together as she looks back and forth between the two of them, her eyebrow raised, “Hi Aaron,” she says, her eyes flicking back to Emily before they land on him, a fake smile he recognised from when they were teenagers and she used to try and act brave in front of her parents, “Are you going to introduce me to your friend?”

The silence that follows is awkward, and Emily can’t tell if she’s pleased or offended that Aaron can’t seem to bring himself to introduce her to his ex-girlfriend. She clears her throat, her jaw tight as she skims her hand over his back, her smile fleeting as he turns to look at her, “I’m going to go put some pants on,” she says, flicking her eyes between him and Haley, “I’ll leave you two to it.”

Her attempt to step away pulls him out of the shocked silence he’d fallen into, and he grabs her wrist, his eyes meeting hers as she stops barely a pace away from him, “Emily-”

“It’s okay, Aaron,” she says, even though it felt anything but, her heart sinking into her stomach, “I’ll be in the bedroom.”

She flashes a tight smile at Haley, who is still standing in the hallway, and walks towards the bedroom, her hands tugging down the hem of the t-shirt she’s wearing to make sure her ass is covered. Aaron sighs when he hears the bedroom door close, the echo of it loud in the otherwise quiet apartment, the slam reverberating back and forth between his past and his present.

“So…” Haley says, drawing his attention back to her, “Emily.”

He steps back to let her into the apartment, not wanting to air his private business to any of his neighbours who may be listening in, his grip tight on the door handle as he clenches his jaw, “Haley.”

“She seems nice,” she says, looking around the apartment they’d once shared, at the spaces where pictures of the two of them used to sit. She turns to look at Aaron, her arms tight over her chest, “I mean she’s young, was she even in middle school when we met?”

“Haley,” he says again, more warning in his voice this time, well aware that Emily would be able to hear everything from the next room, the walls of his apartment as thin as his patience, his every nerve on edge at the sudden reappearance of his ex-girlfriend, “That’s enough.”

Haley blows out a breath, nodding as she looks down at the ground, giving herself a moment to gather herself as she tightens her grip on her own triceps, “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. I…” she clears her throat as she looks up at him, “I don’t know what I was expecting when I came here tonight but it certainly wasn’t a gorgeous brunette answering the door wearing a t-shirt that I bought you.”

He places his hands on his hips and nods, accepting her apology wordlessly. Haley had never been cruel or mean, far from it. Her kindness was one of the things that had drawn him to her in the first place. A bright spot in his chaotic life as a teenager, a much needed escape from his turbulent home life, a reminder that he had more waiting for him as soon as he was old enough to escape. He knew that’s why it hurt so much when she broke up with him, tears shining in her eyes as she gave him the ring back, her lower lip trembling as she told him she knew they wanted different things, things that, in the long run, were likely to tear them apart anyway.

“Why are you here, Haley?” He hates how his voice shakes, how heartbreak he thought he’d fixed is still just beneath the surface, “You moved out. You broke up with me,” he chokes as he shakes his head, “I’ve moved on. I…you can’t just come back here and what, want to go back to where we were?”

The way she looks away, her eyes fixed on a picture on the wall of him and Emily, one he’d asked a stranger to take of the two of them on his most recent trip to New Haven, lets him know he’s got it in one. Despite the ache in his chest, the space he thought she’d always occupy, he realises that not one part of him wants to take her up on it.

“I thought…” she shakes her head, “I don’t know what I thought. I missed you, that’s all,” she looks at him, the smile he’d once imagined their children would have flickering across her face, “I guess I thought we’d figure it out.”

He frowns, his eyebrows furrowing together, “I haven’t heard from you in close to a year.”

She nods, her lips pressed together as she laughs humourlessly, “And you never came after me,” she says, shrugging her shoulders, “I thought you would.”

“Oh,” he raises his eyebrows, the tension in his shoulders loosening, a wry laugh breaking free from his chest, shattering any remaining ache her departure from his life had left behind, “I did not get that at all.”

She laughs too, a sound he never thought he’d hear again and she shakes her head at herself, “I guess I wasn’t the one you were meant to follow,” she steps forward and hugs him. It takes a moment for him to reciprocate, his arms stiff at his side before he wraps them around her. He hates her shampoo smells different, a final reminder that they no longer belonged to each other, and as he pulls back it feels like even more of a goodbye than their break up, a finality to it that he could accept, “Can I give you some advice?”

He smiles, “Would you stop even if I said no?”

She rolls her eyes and slaps his shoulder, “Sometimes, you need to chase after what you want, Aaron,” she says, her eyes drifting back towards the bedroom, to the room with the bed she’d helped pick out, “Or who you want.”

She steps back, putting some space between them, “I should go,” she says, turning her back on him and heading towards the door. She looks at him over her shoulder as she pulls it open, “Goodbye Aaron.”

He’s surprised at how easy it is to watch her leave this time, no words stuck in his chest as there had been almost a year ago, no pieces of his heart to pick up off the floor, something he knows is everything to do with the woman currently hiding in his bedroom. He barely has a moment to think about what’s happened, to get over the strange turn of events that evening, before there’s a knock on the still open door.

“Pizza?”

He sighs and picks up his wallet, pulling the door open entirely to reveal the teenage delivery boy, “How much?”

He smiles at him, his eyes wide as he looks back and forth between him and the hallway Haley had disappeared down, “Dude, how many girlfriends do you have?”

He raises his eyebrows and has to suppress a smile when the kid opposite him suddenly looks like he’s going to crap his pants, immediately clearing his throat, “$10, please. Sir.”

___

She’s never been more grateful that she remembered to pack her Discman. She tucks it under her arm as she hastily packs, her headphones blasting her favourite Siouxsie and the Banshees so loudly the sound is tinny, the music every bit as awful to listen to as her parents had always claimed it was. It’s better than listening to whatever conversation Aaron is having with Haley out in the living room, the only bit she had heard, the fact she’d been wearing a shirt Haley had bought for him, enough to make her stomach turn.

She’d taken it off, changing into her own clothes before she’d started charging around his room, pulling anything that belonged to her off of the shelves as she listens to Silly Thing on repeat, not wanting to leave a trace of herself behind.

She jumps when she turns and sees him standing in the doorway, his brows furrowed as she pulls her headphones off her head, the tinny music still blasting from them as they hook around her neck.

“Pizza’s here,” he says, looking at her bag on his bed, “Where are you going?”

She clears her throat and tears her headphones off entirely, switching off the Discman as she stuffs it into the side pocket of her duffel, “A hotel,” she says, sniffing, forcing back emotions that she doesn’t want to show in front of him, desperate to hold herself together until she’s in her car, “It’s too late to drive home and I don’t want to be in the way.”

He tries to stop her from getting past him but she’s faster than him, slipping free of his embrace before he can even wrap his hand around her arm, “You don’t want to be in the way of what?”

“You and Haley,” she replies, slipping her shoes on, ignoring that it’s his socks she’s wearing, so focused on getting out of there, on not letting him see her break, that she doesn’t realise they are alone, “I know this is what you’ve been waiting for and I’m not going to stand in the way.”

She’d never been enough, not for anyone. Not for her parents, not for the groups of friends she’d never quite fit in with. In the end, she hadn’t even been enough for Matthew, the shared trauma of what she’d gone through in Rome had turned him away from her and to the addiction he was still in the grip of even now. She felt stupid for letting herself believe that this time she was enough, that the way he looked at her was something close to the love she was now grateful she hadn’t admitted to.

She’d get over it, she always did. She’d move on, her armour even stronger than before, reforged over the chink he’d left in it. She sighs when he gets in between her and the door, her fingers pushing through her hair as she feels her breath catch in her chest, her heart cracking in two as she curses herself for ever letting his get so far, for breaking the promise she’d made herself that first night.

“Please let me go,” she says, her voice shaking in a way he’d never heard before, and the pieces fall into place. Her hurried packing, the headphones she’d had on when he walked into his bedroom, the loud noise she called music audible even across the room.

It’s a reflection of when Haley left him, confusion and pre-emptive heartbreak mixing in his gut until he feels nauseous. It renders him speechless for a moment until he remembers Haley’s parting words.

“Sometimes, you need to chase after what you want, Aaron.”

He can’t watch Emily leave, doesn’t even want to give her the chance to be chased, and he reaches forward, his hand finally wrapping around her arm, tugging her closer so she can’t leave, her hand slipping from the door handle.

“Aaron, please-”

“Haley left,” he says, watching as her eyes go wide as she looks around the apartment, “She’s gone.”

“Wh..what?” She chokes out, her bravado fading by the second as she tries to see if he was lying, “She’s gone?”

He nods, happy when she lets him take her bag from her shoulder, lowering it to the ground between them, “She’s gone. Did you…did you think I’d break up with you? Just like that?”

She closes her eyes, embarrassment flooding through her, her cheeks burning with it as she looks down at the ground, “How often does the woman you love just reappear in your life?”

He feels a flash of anger aimed at himself, and anyone who came before him who ever made her feel like she was nothing short of extraordinary. He promises himself there and then that he’ll make sure she knows just how amazing she is, how much she’s worth for the rest of his life if she’ll let him.

“Emily,” he breathes out her name like a prayer as he cups her chin, his finger hooked under it as he encourages her to look at him, the words he’d been holding for weeks, any reason he had for doing so seeing silly now, finally escaping, “I love you.”

She stares at him for a moment, at a loss for words as she licks her lower lip, her mouth opening and closing as she tries to think of something to say, “What?”

He smiles, leaning forward to press his forehead against hers, his hand hooking around the back of her neck to hold her in place, “I love you, Emily Prentiss,” he says, his smile getting wider when she chokes on a breath, her hands finally moving from her sides and grasping his t-shirt, “I loved Haley, but that was in my past. You’re my present,” he pulls back to look at her properly, “And, if you want to be, my future.”

She shakes her head at him before she leans in to kiss him, her hands buried in his hair as she puts everything into it, everything she’d convinced herself she’d never get to have in the few minutes he’d spoken to his ex.

“I love you too,” she replies as she pulls back just enough to speak, stamping her lips against his again, “I love you,” she kisses him once more, “I’m sorry I’m an idiot.”

He frowns and pulls back, tucking some of her hair behind her ear, “Hey, don’t speak about the woman I love like that.”

She presses her lips together and nods, her forehead against his for a moment before she pulls back, “I think the pizza will have gone cold.”

“I don’t care,” he replies, stamping a kiss against her lips before he encourages her towards the couch, grabbing the pizza box from the counter before they sit down. She curls against his side and he places the pizza in his lap, opening the box before he takes a slice, grimacing as he has a bite, “Oh yeah, it is cold.”

She hums as she reaches for a slice, her head against his shoulder as she starts to eat, “I think you’d be horrified at how big a part of my diet cold pizza is.”

He shakes his head and turns it to kiss her temple, “When you’re done with college I’ll make sure you eat actual meals.”

She smiles, the implication that it meant they’d be living together not lost on her. She doesn’t broach the subject, the unexpecting love confession after the reappearance of the woman he was once engaged to enough of a shift in their relationship for one night. But she knows the idea of taking that step with him doesn’t scare her, that she sees a future with him just as much as he apparently sees one with her.

“I am sorry,” she says, smiling shyly when their eyes meet, “For making an assumption. I should have spoken to you about it instead of trying to leave.”

He shakes his head, his spare hand on her knee, squeezing the joint through her leggings, “You have nothing to apologise for, sweetheart,” he says, “I’m sure I would have thought the same thing if our roles were reversed.”

She hums, not sure that the examples were truly comparable. Her only other ex that had been semi-serious was a professor she’d dated during her undergrad, a man old enough that it scandalised her parents. They’d never been serious, and certainly nothing close to Aaron’s relationship with Haley, but she’d still been sad when he’d called things off, replacing her with a freshman as she started her senior year.

“I didn’t even ask how you felt seeing her,” she says, picking up another slice of pizza, “It can’t have been easy.”

He thinks about it, not sure he’d really had the chance to process it beyond the fact it had happened, “It wasn’t,” he admits, “But I think it was necessary,” he says, his smile genuine, “It was the closure I needed.”

She runs her fingers through his hair when he stops there, everything else he still can’t put into words stuck in his throat.

“I’m glad,” she replies, “If you want to talk about it, I hope you know you can talk about it to me,” she says, a teasing edge to her smile, “Since we’re in love with each other and all.”

He laughs and kisses her, “I know.”

They lapse into an easy silence, pressed up against each other as they continue to eat their cold pizza. She eventually breaks it, “Baby?”

He hums, the nickname she rarely used warming him from the inside out, “Yes, sweetheart?”

“I’m buying you a bunch of t-shirts, you’re wearing them once and then I’m stealing them back,” she says, her expression letting him know just how much of his conversation with Haley she had heard, “Okay?”

He clears his throat to suppress a laugh, but he’s unable to stop his smile, and he nods, stamping his lips against hers,

“Okay.”

-x-

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13eyond13 · 4 months ago

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Hey Bloz! How r u? I cannot even begin to express how fun it’s been to see ur Beatles posts on my dash. the minute I saw the Real Love demo I was like ok… she’s fallen down the rabbit hole XD I was fixated on them last year for a good few months. It was a lot of fun reading about them, watching their movies, and reading fan analyses online. There’s so much out there! And Beatles rpf is a whole world unto itself lol at first I was skeptical of it but then… I was intrigued haha

Do u have any fave songs or albums? :)

Omg hello Jess!! I miss you and it's so nice to hear from you 🫂

Hahaha YES I'm pretty deep into The Beatles lore rabbit hole already, it's been my main fixation for entertainment for the past month or so. You're right, there's just so much to dig into. Caught me totally by surprise, I feel like I'm so late to the game to just be having a Beatles phase now... I never felt extremely interested in learning about them before, but a randomly recommended YouTube video (x) about how it's reductive to blame the band's breakup solely on Yoko Ono drew me into this whole fascination a few weeks back.

😆 And hah, you must have sent this ask to me right before I deleted that "Real Love" demo reblog, because I thought I'd better delete it after I looked in the notes of the post and saw the OP wasn't taking kindly to anybody questioning if John was actually giggling instead of sobbing there (which is what I think he was doing, personally... but it still sounded like he was writing something about Paul? 🤷‍♀️ idk, doesn't need to be crying for it to still be a bit of an eyebrow raiser, imo)

I haven't actually really looked into any rpf yet, just digesting the "canon" material and whatnot (listening chronologically to their discography and not completely finished with that yet, up to halfway through the White album rn). Been watching their movies and behind the scenes stuff and documentaries (the Get Back one by Peter Jackson was fascinating even for a relatively new fan to watch, imo), reading a bigass biography about them (Tune In by Mark Lewisohn, it's like this great slowburn real-time mosey through the band's childhoods and earliest days together), and watching the occasional YouTube video deep dives (this one series in particular is p beautifully made and impressively researched and really got me in the feels regarding the shippy theories about J&P: [x])

As for my faves of their music, I haven't finished listening to 100% of their albums yet, BUT right now I'm actually very partial to some of their earliest records. I feel like some of their more normie stuff from the early 60s is actually the most fantastic fun to listen to, and Please Please Me and A Hard Day's Night might be the two albums with the most bangers that I never want to skip so far. Their more experimental and psychedelic and surreal later stuff is also interesting and arguably more unique and groundbreaking or creative or whatever, but I'm not as familiar with them outside of the main extremely famous tracks on them yet, and I'll need to finish listening and let them grow on me a bit before I can probably say for sure. However I think so far my faves from their later stuff would probs be Magical Mystery Tour, Abbey Road, and possibly the White Album (once I actually finish listening to it).

John is definitely my favourite Beatle, which was actually a complete surprise to me, I thought he'd be my least fave. And there are so many good bops that it's hard to narrow it down, but some of my personal faves so far are I Saw Her Standing There, I Should Have Known Better, I Want to Hold Your Hand, It Won't be Long, A Hard Day's Night, Do You Want to Know a Secret, Oh! Darling, I Want You (She's So Heavy) and If I Fell... hmm, I think maybe I'm just kinda a sucker for their simple and enthusiastic and joyful love songs the most, usually?

Thank you for sending me this sweet ask! I'd love to hear what some of your faves are too 🧡

#ask #pika-cthuluuuuu #p

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thisapplepielife · 9 months ago

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All Across the Universe: Chapter One

Rating: Eventual E | CW: Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence | Tags: Post-Stranger Things 4 Vol. 2, Canon Divergence, Eddie Munson Lives, Time Travel Fix-It, Blundering Through History, Platonic Stobin, Revolving Door of Characters, Mixed Media

limitless undying love, which shines around me like a million suns, it calls me on and on across the universe, Across the Universe, The Beatles

1987

Steve is comfortable on his back, laying against the trunk of his car, looking up at the night sky, when he sees a shooting star rush across the vastness of space. It was right there in front of him a second ago, and then gone in the blink of an eye.

Like it maybe never existed at all.

It was pretty, the few moments he got to spend looking at it, and he wishes Robin could have seen it.

Hell, he wishes Eddie could have seen it.

The last thing Eddie saw was that awful, bat-infested, red sky of the Upside Down, and that’s a fucking shame. Steve quickly thinks: I wish we'd had more time. I wish you'd gotten a different ending, a different life. I wish I could have fixed this.

But he can't fix this. They didn't have more time. And Eddie barely got to live at all. They came up with a plan on the fly, a little too unprepared, and Eddie didn’t come home at the end of the night. And as much as Steve hates it, regrets it. That can't be undone.

Steve can never unsee Eddie's body on the ground, can never unsee Dustin crouched over him, protectively. Dustin tried. Steve tried. Nancy tried. Robin tried. Nothing they did was gonna change it.

Eddie was just gone, and they couldn’t fix that.

They were too late.

And it can't be fixed that the gates started closing before they figured out a way to bring him back through. To bring his body home. It's a regret Steve lives with every damn day. You don't leave a man behind, and he did exactly that. Against his will, maybe, but it still happened on his watch and he feels like that's on him.

Robin was screaming, pulling on him. Trying desperately to drag him along with her, trying to get him to let go of Eddie's body. He didn't want to give up, and he was barely hearing Robin, or Nancy, as they were both yelling at him to come on, right now. Nancy kept turning her head, screaming at him, as she helped walk a limping Dustin towards the trailer. Steve thinks that Robin may not have been able to get him to stop trying to lift Eddie, if they hadn’t used Dustin as the reason he had to go, had to move. Now.

Something was happening, and it felt like the beginning of an earthquake. Small tremors, rolling under their feet. Steve stood, barely able to keep his balance. Taking one last look at Eddie, in apology. In sorrow.

In regret, for what would never be. For Eddie. For any of them.

Eddie had cut the sheet, and now Dustin needed help getting back up and through the gate, and the girls couldn’t do it alone. So, Steve went. Followed them, helped. Found a step stool and pushed each of them up through the gate, and back into the real world.

He'd turned, and looked towards the door, considering.

And Robin had been standing there, above him, crying. Begging him to just come through. Hand stretched out, holding the remnants of tied together sheets for him to grab. He stepped down one rung on the ladder, and she had shrieked at the same time the ground buckled, groaning, as it got ready to give way, and he grabbed a hold of the sheet, and pulled himself through.

They crawled out of the trailer in the real world, just as it started to split, getting devoured by the fiery earth below.

And that was that.

They had a war to fight, to win.

And they did.

Vecna is gone, but so is Eddie.

And now the shooting star is long gone, too.

Steve looks at the stars left behind, just like him.

But maybe Eddie did see it, somewhere. Steve's learned that nothing is impossible. Not now. Things happen that can't be explained. Walls open in bedrooms and monsters crawl out. There can be tunnels underground, well-worn paths just for monsters to travel deep beneath your feet.

And there can be a gate at the bottom of a lake that greedily sucks you under, and spits you back out into hell.

Weird shit happens in this world, that's just a fact.

So, there's no reason he couldn't believe that Eddie saw that shooting star, somewhere else, in space and time.

But Steve doesn't believe that, not really, but for a brief moment he can pretend he does. He really wants to believe that somewhere, in some other universe, Eddie was looking up at the same night sky. One that wasn’t red, wasn’t bleeding with the color of devastation, of evil. One that was full of bright, beautiful stars. Full of potential. Of a life yet unlived, undreamed, with endless possibilities laid out before him.

Eddie was only twenty years old. He hadn't really lived life, not yet. Hadn't got the chance to see the world, to see that there are things beyond the narrow-minded confines of Hawkins, Indiana.

Steve's twenty now, too. Almost twenty-one. His birthday came and went, with little fanfare. No longer a teenager. He's caught up to Eddie, and very soon, he'll surpass him.

He swallows, trying to shove the emotion of that realization down.

It's been a hard year, harder than any of the others.

Because Steve’s become fixated, canonizing this man he barely knew. Robin has tried, desperately, to get him to stop obsessing. To let the guilt subside. He doesn't know Eddie Munson. Not really. And now he never will.

And that's a whole bunch of horseshit.

He feels a strange pulling in his stomach, and before can even sit up, he pops out of existence.

they tumble blindly, as they make their way across the universe Across the Universe, The Beatles

Continue reading on AO3.

#fic: all across the universe #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #time travel #time travel fix it #stranger things #time keeps on slipping slipping slipping #into the future #or the past #time isn't picky #robin buckley #gareth stranger things

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